Wanted (Flick Carter Book 1) (17 page)

‘Looks like you’ve got it all figured out,’ Flick said.

Shea grinned.

‘Somehow I thought I might be leaving in a hurry,’ he said. ‘Do you think you can get home from here without being seen? Griffin has probably got people watching the inn by now.’

‘Shouldn’t be a problem,’ Flick replied. ‘I can sneak all the way along this wall. It comes out near the back of the inn, and I can get in the back way through the courtyard.’

‘Good. Be careful, and remember what I said about Bristol.’

There was shouting in the distance, and the sound of a dog barking.

‘I’m going to go over the wall,’ said Shea, ‘it’s less likely they’ll spot me.’ He slung the backpack over the wall and was just about to go after it when he hesitated, turning to Flick.

‘One more thing,’ he said. ‘I love you.’ He kissed her full on the mouth, and as quickly as she could blink, he was gone.

For a moment Flick just stood there, stunned.
He kisses me
NOW?
‘I love you,’ she whispered at the wall. But there was no time for reverie and she ran as quickly as she could back to the inn and crept in through the back door. Fortunately, the main gate was still shut and barred so nobody could see through into the courtyard from out in the square. She rushed up to her room to change her clothes, and then peeked out through the window of one of the unoccupied guest bedrooms. Sure enough there were one, two, no, three surly looking men standing around the square watching the streets and the entrance.

Flick spent the rest of that day trying to act naturally and not to think about what had happened. She’d wandered nonchalantly down to the kitchen, where Maggie spotted her.

‘Hey Flick, did you get what you wanted?’

‘All sorted,’ Flick replied. ‘Oh, if anyone asks, I haven’t been out at all today.’

‘Okay, no problem.’

When Rosie got home from school, the men were still outside watching the inn. Flick thought about waving at them, but that would give away that she knew they were there, and they would start to wonder how or why. Better just to ignore them completely and pretend they didn’t exist. Flick asked Rosie how school was.

‘It was weird,’ she said. ‘They stopped play time. There were these men that came round and searched all the classrooms. I think they were looking for someone, like that time the mayor searched the inn. They were horrid. And smelly.’

‘Yes,’ said Flick, ‘those thugs have been all over town all day. There’s definitely something going on, and it’s not very nice.’

‘Has it got anything to do with your new boyfriend?’ Rosie asked.

Flick blushed.

‘It has, hasn’t it?’ Rosie pestered.

‘I don’t want you to say a word about him to anyone,’ Flick cautioned. ‘He’s not my boyfriend, and anyway he’s long gone.’

Rosie opened her mouth.

‘I mean it,’ said Flick, holding up her index finger, ‘this is serious. Now tonight, I want you to go to your room straight after supper. Don’t open your door to anyone except me, understand? Not to anyone. Those thugs could come back.’

Rosie nodded.

‘And tomorrow, I’ll walk you to school, and make sure you always have a friend with you. Don’t go anywhere on your own, do you hear me?’

‘Yes, Mother,’ Rosie parroted.

Flick tousled Rosie’s hair. ‘Hug?’

‘Hug.’

They hugged. Flick kissed the top of Rosie’s head and sent her off to the kitchen for supper.

The bar that night was quiet, with only a few customers. There were no paying guests; news of the incident with the mayor earlier in the week had got about and people were staying at the Bell, or simply avoiding the town altogether. Fred and Stanley were at a table in a corner of the room playing dominoes, but most of the regulars had also stayed away.

When Fred brought their empty glasses over for refilling between games, he parked himself on one of the bar stools.

‘Funny goings on today,’ he said.

‘What’s that then?’ asked Flick, innocently.

‘I thought you might know,’ said Fred conspiratorially, ‘seeing as you seem to be right in the middle of them.’

Flick finished pouring the pint and started on the second one.

‘Oh you’re a cool one and no mistake,’ said Fred. ‘Look, if it’s none of my business then fair enough, but if you’re in trouble and there’s anything we can do, you know, me and the lads, just say the word. There’s quite a few of us that think, you know who is well out of order. Although there’s some as I think are toadies too.’

‘Did Maggs say something?’ Flick asked.

‘Maggs? No, I was at my morning ablutions when I just happened to look out of the window. Hello, I say to myself, that’s Flick hiding in the alley, I wonder what she’s doing there. And then I see Griffin and his thugs attacking the library like it was world war five, and I put two and two together. Now I ain’t much good with sums, so maybe I made five, or three, but then again, maybe I made four…’

‘I’m sorry Fred, I don’t know what you mean.’ She put the second drink on the bar. ‘That’ll be six quid please.’

Fred looked at her long and hard before handing over the money. ‘Okay, suit yourself,’ he said. ‘The offer’s still there if you need it.’

‘Thanks Fred, I appreciate the thought,’ Flick said.

‘Oh one other thing,’ said Fred as he picked up the drinks. ‘There’s three thugs outside, been eyeing up the place for quite some time. I think me and some of the lads might ask them nicely to move along once we’ve finished this game. I reckon they’ve outstayed their welcome.’

Flick blew him a kiss and mouthed, ‘Thank you.’

The rest of the night was uneventful and the following day dawned bright and sunny. Flick took Rosie to school and brought her home again in the evening. She busied herself the rest of the time with the regular day-to-day tasks of running the inn. She kept peeking through the windows but there was no sign of the thugs that had been lurking outside the night before, so whatever Fred and his mates had done obviously did the trick. Nor did the mayor pay a visit. There was no word of Shea, so presumably he had got clean away. The Watch were not showing any signs of extra activity, and there hadn’t been a Kingsman sighted in the town since the May festival. There were still no paying guests and that evening the bar was pretty empty again, but these things would pick up; they usually did. Flick closed up the inn and went to bed early.

FLICK RAN. TREE branches whipped at her face and arms, stinging, unseen in the blackness. Something snagged at her feet, a tree root, sending her sprawling.

‘Keep going!’ Shea yelled, pulling her back to her feet. She glanced back, the shouts and flicker of burning torches were getting closer. Dogs barked and snarled. Shots rang out.

She ran again, pushing through the tangled undergrowth, ignoring the pain, thinking only, ‘They mustn’t catch us; they mustn’t catch us!’

A voice behind her, silky smooth, ‘Felicity, stop, we only want to talk…’ sounded like Mayor Griffin, but she didn’t dare stop. Loud bangs came from somewhere behind.

There was a scream.
Rosie!
She was leaning out of a window, waving frantically.

‘The cottage! Quick!’ Flick called, and grabbed Shea’s hand, pulling him towards the open front door.

Inside, they slammed and bolted the door. The one downstairs room was empty, but the sound of Rosie screaming came from above. Now someone was banging on the door and shouting, ‘Open up!’

‘Quick, upstairs!’ she called, and they rushed up the stairs and through the door on the landing. Rosie was at the window, still with her head sticking out and screaming.

‘Ro, its all right, we’re here! Come away from the window!’ Flick yelled.

Rosie pulled her head back into the room, but when she turned around, it was Mayor Griffin. ‘I warned you what would happen if you disobeyed me,’ he said, laughing menacingly.

Flick rushed back to the door, but it wouldn’t open. There was a crash of breaking glass, and the smell of smoke. She turned back into the room, but it was empty; Rosie was gone; Shea was gone; there was just her, alone. The smoke was thicker, it stung her eyes and made her cough. The floor and walls were getting hot; flames started licking around the edges of the open window. Now smoke was pouring in through the landing door. The window was a wall of flame. She was trapped. She screamed.

Flick coughed. She opened her eyes but they stung from the smoke. There was a reddish-orange glow coming through the window, giving her bedroom a strange foggy quality, as if she were looking over a sea of mist, only on the ceiling. It flickered. She coughed again. It was the smoke.
But the smoke was in my dream…
It took her a moment to realise that she wasn’t dreaming, that the smoke was real.

Fire!

‘Fire!’ she yelled at the top of her lungs, and instantly collapsed into fits of coughing.

She pulled herself out of her bed and wrapped her dressing gown around herself.

Get Rosie and get out, that’s what she needed to do.

Still coughing she opened the door and stepped into the hallway.

The smoke was much thicker out here, and quite black. Flick had to drop to her knees to keep out of it as much as she could. Here and there she could see yellow flames in the walls and the ceiling, which roared and fizzed and popped in a most alarming way. For a moment she just stood there, stunned, not knowing what to do. Her heart thumped in her chest, her eyes were streaming from the dense smoke billowing along the ceiling, and the smell of burning made her gag.

There was a big crash further down the passageway that sounded like the ceiling collapsing. She felt waves of heat and dust and bits of plaster wafting over her, pushed along the passageway like it was a giant bellows.
No way out that way!

Flick dropped to her hands and knees and crawled to the next door along. This was Rosie’s room. Her eyes stung and she was coughing, but she had to get Rosie out. She reached the door, and stretched her hand up to the handle.

‘Rosie!’ she screamed. She tried to open the door, but it was jammed shut. She could turn the handle but it felt hot to the touch, and the door wouldn’t budge. She tried to push it, stretching across the passage, but it was no good; Rosie must have bolted the door–just like Flick had told her to do. She pummelled against the wood, and shouted hysterically, ‘Rosie! Rosie! Wake up!’

The door didn’t budge.

A big lump of plaster fell from the ceiling with a crash, showering more dust and sparks. Tongues of yellow showed where it had been, and burning laths crackled and sputtered. She felt tiny pinpricks of pain where the sparks touched her face and hands. The pile of debris was between Flick and her own bedroom door; there was now fire on both sides of her. Another part of the ceiling dislodged in a shower of sparks and several timbers followed. One hit Flick on the arm, sending her sprawling and catching her dressing gown alight. She screamed and started patting it down frantically. Smoke and dust billowed around, making her gag and cough. She doubled over, pushing through the pile of smouldering plaster and laths to get back to her room, barely noticing the pain and heat, and finally slamming the door shut behind her.

She rolled around on the floor, putting out the last smouldering embers on her dressing gown and lay there on the floor, panting. Now the smell of burnt hair hit her nostrils, and she realised, with alarm, that it was hers. She retched. The air was clearer in here than in the passage, even with the burnt hair and sick, but her room was still filling with smoke, and the fire was only just outside her door, and already she could see black around the edges of it. The stinging in her eyes had become intense, and they threatened to close. If she let that happen, she’d never be able to open them again, and that would be it. She let out a tiny sob.

It was much quieter with the door shut, but there was an ominous popping and creaking coming from the ceiling. She thought it might collapse at any moment. She looked up. The layer of smoke was much denser now, and lower too; she could see that much from the glow coming through the window.

The window.

She struggled to her feet and pushed it open. Fresh air rushed in and smoke rushed out. Flick stuck her head out and breathed clean fresh air. Her eyes started to feel better.

It was too high up to jump to the ground, but there was a wide ledge outside, and if she was careful she could work her way around the edge of the building to the stable block, from where she could shin down the drain pipe. She’d snuck out that way several times as a child when she’d wanted to go out without her parents knowing. And there was a chance she could get to Rosie’s room by the window, or maybe Rosie had already got out the same way.

Flick climbed out onto the ledge. The air seemed fresh and clean outside and she breathed it in deeply, gaining fresh energy. Then she started working her way carefully along. She looked back; smoke was pouring out of her window. The next window was Rosie’s. It was shut. She peered in as she edged past but it was dark, covered in soot maybe. She thought she could make out orange flames inside.
No!

She banged on the glass, hoping to see Rosie’s face appear, but there was nothing. Could she break in? She tried to pull the window open, holding on to the sill with one hand and getting her fingers under the frame with the other, but it wouldn’t budge, and she wobbled alarmingly. There was nothing she could use to break the glass with, so she tried using her fist rolled up in the sleeve of her dressing gown.

‘Rosie!’ she screamed frantically as she punched at the glass again and again, but the panes were too small and she couldn’t put enough weight into the punch and they didn’t break.

‘No!’ she sobbed, leaning her face against the glass, and banging on it again with her hand. She peered inside but she could only see smoke.

Come on Flick, save yourself.

She inched further along the ledge, sobbing so hard she could hardly hold on. There was an almighty crash, shaking the whole building and nearly knocking her off. The whole courtyard lit up a brilliant yellow as flames leapt up through a new big gap in the roof, and smoke poured from cracks and crannies everywhere.